


Under His Autumnal Frost

by sweetcallalily17



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Brief Depiction of Childhood Abuse, Death, Delving Deeper into the Blythe Family Lore, F/M, Illness, It Gets Dark and Depressing at Times, Kind of Angsty(?), Post-Season 2, The Slowburn is Real You Guys, Trauma, pre-season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-03 00:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16797433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcallalily17/pseuds/sweetcallalily17
Summary: A frightening incident during Christmas dinner at Green Gables prompts Anne and Gilbert to open up to each other about their pasts. While Gilbert receives some insight into the horrors of Anne’s childhood, Anne also learns of the other tragedy that changed his life forever.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> The following has been laid out entirely in script format, mostly because it’s a lot easier to illustrate scenes as pictured in my head (a lot of scenes start out there as moving images rather than words, though that’s not always the case). 
> 
> Also, I hear a lot of people wanting Anne to open up to Gilbert in future seasons, but here I had him open up to her as well. We still don’t know a lot of his backstory, even with Walley-Beckett performing the best service possible to his character by providing him with a richer and more individual storyline that isn’t restricted to his relationship with Anne. Most of Gilbert’s past written for this story is invented or based on the scant details he gives us in the television series. Therefore, you’ll see a lot more of Gilbert’s past, as Anne’s own history is better established in canon thus far. 
> 
> The title above originates from a line from a 19th century poem titled ‘And You as Well Must Die, Beloved Dust’ by Edna St. Vincent Millay.
> 
> Before you begin reading, here’s a terminology of abbreviations so that you don’t get confused:
> 
> INT. = Interior (indoors)  
> EXT. = Exterior (outdoors)  
> O.S.= Off-screen

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

Christmas, 1898. The small but close-knit town of Avonlea, P.E.I. has been thrown into an eager flurry of festivities. Mrs. Lynde, a busy woman all year round, but especially on Christmas, has seen to it that every building and institution within the vicinity has been decked top to bottom with decorations embodying the joy of the season. The church will be a full house tonight; the Minister’s familiar lilting dramatics as he delivers his sermons about the birth of Christ will surely sweep his audience away.

* * *

**1\. INT. A BEDROOM SOMEWHERE IN AVONLEA – DAY**

A young man on the verge of adulthood, dressed in earthy, practical winter attire, opens a drawer in his bedside table, retrieving from its darkened depths a small and humble package containing something of far greater worth than everything else in the room, including himself. He saw it once in Charlottetown and it instantly looked familiar, though he couldn’t figure out why. Nonetheless, the minute he laid his eyes upon it, he knew it and a certain young lady from Avonlea were meant to be.

 **BASH (O.S.):**  
No, Mary, you best stay here.

 **MARY (O.S.):**  
Bash, I told you, I’m coming whether you and the doctor like it or not.

Rolling his eyes at hearing those two bickering, he places the package carefully into his coat pocket but remains in his room, knowing it’s best if he doesn’t try to interfere.

* * *

**2\. INT. GREEN GABLES**

Meanwhile, at snow-covered Green Gables, preparations are being made for tonight’s Christmas dinner; there’s not an idle soul on the property. The Cuthberts are anticipating visitors. MATTHEW is out on the barn, milking his final cow; MARILLA is in the middle of checking the stove and seeing if her Christmas pudding is well baked enough, while fifteen-year-old ANNE, soon to be sixteen in March, is laying down dishes and silverware upon the table, which in addition to the lace tablecloth is considerately garnished with wreathes of holly and red-and-white winter blooms; a characteristically Anne touch. Marilla passes by while wearing an apron, stops briefly to shake her head, but decides to leave this additional flourish as it is and, smiling, returns to the kitchen.

 **MARILLA (O.S.):**  
I suppose the folks from the Blythe farm will be here any minute now.

 **ANNE:**  
_(hearing her, stops in her tracks; realises she’s still in her plain everyday dress and apron)_  
Oh! I have to get ready!

She then rushes and clamors up the staircase as we cut to –

* * *

**3\. INT. KITCHEN**

**MARILLA:**  
_(calling after her)_  
Slow down!

She laughs quietly to herself while elbow-deep in dough; the boy and the Lacroixs won’t be here for another good two hours. She knows quite well that Anne wants to look her best for their guests tonight, especially for one in particular. John comes to mind for a spell, and she sighs as all the sweet memories and thoughts of opportunities now lost follow.

* * *

**4\. EXT. GREEN GABLES**

Two hours have passed by; the sky has faded into a mellow blue stained with traces of orange. Outside, three figures, dressed from head to toe in thick, heavy coats and wrapped in scarves, trudge up the red dusty road to the front porch of Green Gables. Mrs. Lacroix, MARY, has been with child for several months now, and her protruding belly is concealed underneath her clothing, tailor-made for the harshest of Canadian winters. She struggles the most to make it uphill, so her husband SEBASTIAN (‘BASH’) is by her side, guiding her with a steady, anchoring arm. MARY has no intention of staying home as the doctor previously advised – she is not missing her first Christmas at Green Gables. Ahead of them, seventeen-year-old GILBERT BLYTHE softens upon seeing the wreath hanging on the front door, interlaced prettily with seashells, obviously Anne’s doing. He knocks –

 **MARILLA:**  
_(answering the door)_  
Welcome – do come in, hurry, hurry. _(leading them in, one by one)_ It must be awfully cold out there. Merry Christmas, Mary. Merry Christmas –

* * *

**5\. INT. ANNE’S BEDROOM**

Anne is busy getting ready – she’s standing in front of the mirror. The final touches: a pair of dainty pearl earrings that Diana gave her for her last birthday.

 **MATTHEW (O.S.):**  
_(knocking on door)_  
Anne? They’re here.

 **ANNE:**  
Coming!

* * *

**6\. INT. VESTIBULE**

Marilla is escorting the Lacroixs to the living room, while Gilbert hangs around for a while longer. The timing is impeccable – Anne is now descending the staircase, wearing a dress of soft ivory muslin and a demure smile. Her hair has grown back fully now, and it now hangs loose like a shimmering curtain of the richest titian, pinned halfway up – the top of her hair is slightly pompadour – she looks grown-up without the braids, but not quite a woman. She reaches the bottom, and the space between them soon becomes minimal; their gazes, stunned and enamoured in equal measures, meet; the air is electrified.

* * *

**7\. INT. LIVING ROOM**

Both Bash and Mary are promptly seated at the large upholstered couch near the Christmas tree; memories are evoked of last year’s Christmas. Marilla steers most of the conversations, while Matthew, his tall and outwardly sturdy, yet inconspicuously deteriorating frame by the grandfather clock, puts in a few words when necessary.

 **MARILLA:**  
Now, how are you, Mary? Are you getting along fine?

 **MARY:**  
_(fondly)_  
The baby’s doing wonderfully. I believe it’ll happen any day now.

* * *

**8\. INT. VESTIBULE**

**ANNE:**  
_(pauses for a moment; her heart is now aflutter)_  
Merry Christmas.

 **GILBERT:**  
_(breathlessly)_  
Merry Christmas.

It’s a merry Christmas for him, all right – he can’t quite believe his eyes. How is it possible for this girl to grow more beautiful as the days wear by? He stands stock still, gives her a wide, unfaltering smile – both on his lips and in his eyes – that he reserves for her only. Her lips, lush and pink, are suddenly inviting and he hungers, this strange and somewhat unwanted feeling going violently against his gentlemanly sensibilities. Her own eyes, innately filled with a deep and vivid blue, are ignited…

 **MARILLA (O.S.):**  
Anne!

Their heads simultaneously snap up and both turn to the doorway leading into the living room. The spell is broken, but not completely – enough to pull the both of them back down to earth.

 **ANNE:**  
_(waveringly)_  
Sorry, Marilla!

She beckons him to follow her – he falters in his movements before doing so, still feeling light-headed.

* * *

**9\. INT. DINING ROOM – NIGHT**

The room is brilliantly illuminated with gaslight. The plump and juicy turkey, Christmas pudding, and other delectable desserts, together with the elaborate festive decorations upon the table, are all enticing. All six are seated comfortably – Marilla and Matthew at either end, the married Bash and Mary sitting together on one side, and Anne and Gilbert on the other. The latter, younger pair are for the most part relaxed but also silently panicking; though their conversations together come naturally and easily, they have no idea how to act around one another without doing anything that might provide cause for the other to suspect.

 **BASH:**  
_(after a mouthful of pudding)_  
This is excellent food, Miss Cuthbert.

 **GILBERT:**  
I take it you realise now that foods don’t have to have spices to taste good?

A gale of laughter follows his remark. Bash rolls his eyes and turns to smile at Mary, who seems to be enjoying the feast as well. Matthew laughs right along with them, though there’s a brief hitch in his breathing – definitely too brief for Bash and Mary to notice, but Marilla, who is more familiar with Matthew’s pattern of ‘spells’ than anybody else, picks up on it and surveys his weathered face; her worry is fleeting however, and she dismisses it for the time being – it happens frequently, after all.

 **ANNE:**  
_(cheerfully)_  
Marilla always makes the best Christmas pudding.

She indulges herself with a slice.

 **MARILLA:**  
I believe Mrs. Lynde would disagree with you. And quite rightfully, too.

She secretly agrees with Anne. Matthew stumbles again in his breathing, and brushes a hand along his chest. The glass, filled to the brim with currant wine, trembles and shakes in tandem as some of its contents sloshes out. This time Gilbert, a congenital medical man with the vigilance and intuition of one, notices along with Marilla.

 **GILBERT:**  
_(with concern)_  
Mr. Cuthbert?

 **MATTHEW:**  
Oh. _(mumbles unintelligibly)_ I’m fine.

 **ANNE:**  
_(oblivious, or perhaps just in denial?)_  
You must be excited to have the baby, Mary. I knew an awful lot of babies growing up. _(she falters at this sentence, but shrugs off the worst of her memories beginning to emerge. She’s practised drowning them out for years.)_ Do you think you’ll end up having twins? _(there – she’s said the dreaded word. But she continues to smile anyway, as if there are no negative connotations.)_

 **MARY:**  
Oh, I don’t know if I could manage two little Bashes running about.

Bash makes an offended noise in jest. Anne laughs, and turns to Gilbert, whose attention is no longer on Matthew.

 **ANNE:**  
Won’t it be wonderful having a child – or two children, of course, if it ever comes to it – at the farm? The house is going to be quite full once they’re born.

 **GILBERT:**  
Oh, definitely.

There’s a sense of pride in his voice on behalf of Bash and Mary – he considers children to be delightful little creatures who bring undiluted joy to the lives of their elders, immune to the severity and unforgiving nature of the world outside their own home. Meanwhile, Matthew’s breathing becomes more and more shallow; he can sense that he’s starting to cause a scene without ever meaning to. Now the others’ eyes are trained towards him.

 **MATTHEW:**  
Excuse me.

He exits the room by shuffling into the kitchen. The atmosphere is mildly tense – no one knows what to make of it.

 **BASH:**  
_(a trifle timidly)_  
Mr. Cuthbert not feeling well?

Marilla and Anne exchange uncertain glances across the table.

 **MARILLA:**  
Sebastian –

She never finishes her sentence, for a loud clattering unexpectedly materializes from the kitchen, causing everybody to react – Matthew has collapsed, and confusion arises not long after.

 **MARY:**  
_(gasping in fright)_  
Oh, sweet Jesus!

 **GILBERT:**  
_(robotically rising from his seat and hurrying into the kitchen)_  
Mr. Cuthbert!

Marilla and Anne do the same as we cut to –

* * *

**10\. INT. KITCHEN**

All three enter – with a greatly perturbed Bash and Mary close by – and, to their immense horror, gaze upon Matthew sprawled on the floor – upon further inspection, Gilbert realises that there’s a small gash at the back of his head where he’d fallen.

 **GILBERT:**  
_(urgently)_  
He’s bleeding! Somebody get me a cloth!

Marilla obeys in a flash; Anne kneels with Gilbert by Matthew’s side as the cloth is applied, cupping his face with concurrent tenderness and desperation.

 **ANNE:**  
_(frantically)_  
Please, Matthew…please wake up.

Matthew doesn’t respond.

 **MARY (O.S.):**  
Oh God, dear God, have mercy on this man. Dear God…

(Mary’s reiterated pleas, combined with the escalating restlessness of everybody else, all fade out as we cut to - )

* * *

**11\. INT. LIVING ROOM**

Gilbert is seated, his thumb and index finger rubbing the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes once, then opens them again, as the ticking of the grandfather clock nearby fills the otherwise dead silence. The room is pleasant and accommodating, but he’s currently on edge. He and Mary sit in different corners of the room, waiting anxiously for Bash to return from fetching the doctor. No one knows where Anne went, and in the recent chaos, nobody has remembered to look for her.

 **MARY:**  
I hope Mr. Cuthbert is alright.

Gilbert doesn’t say anything. Marilla, having been tending to Matthew for most of the night, re-emerges downstairs and into the living room. She looks visibly grieved and harrowed, though she tries to hide it.

 **MARILLA:**  
Matthew’s sleeping soundly. _(turns to Gilbert)_ If you and Mary would like to go home –

 **GILBERT:**  
No, no. I wouldn’t dream of it now.

 **MARY:**  
Neither would I, Miss Cuthbert.

 **MARILLA:**  
I’m sorry for the distress – _(falters; she doesn’t know how to continue)_ It’s happened before, you see, just two years ago. Matthew – he’s sort of had a few spells with his heart as of late. That’s why we sent for a boy from the orphanage…to help Matthew around the farm. But there was a mistake – _(awkwardly pauses)_

 **MARY:**  
I understand that boy never came, Miss Cuthbert.

 **MARILLA:**  
_(with a flicker of a smile)_  
Yes. I daresay that though it were a mistake – I can’t ever say it wasn’t – I don’t regret it in the slightest. _(pauses)_ In any case, she’s always been nothing but good for Matthew, and if anything happened to him – _(pauses again, trembling; she’s always dreaded that day.)_

 **GILBERT:**  
It’s been three hours already. Why hasn’t the doctor come yet?

 **MARY:**  
_(picking up on GILBERT’s worries)_  
Yes, you’re right. I sure hope nothing’s gone wrong.

 **GILBERT:**  
_(under his breath)_  
God. _(louder this time)_ I should’ve gone instead. What if the doctor doesn’t take Bash seriously?

 **MARILLA:**  
The doctor knows Matthew well. We’ve been seeing him for years.

Gilbert, without thinking twice, gets up from his seat and starts walking out.

 **MARY:**  
Where you heading to, Blythe?

 **GILBERT:**  
_(sounding vague and absent-minded)_  
I need some air.

He says nothing more, and he makes an uncomplicated exit before we cut to –

* * *

**12\. INT. HALLWAY**

Anne is slumped against the wall outside Matthew’s bedroom – he is still unconscious, but in a stable condition in his bed. The gravity of the terrifying experience of that Christmas dinner stays with her. She’s been in her bedroom, praying before the Snow Queen outside her window, before coming out to rest in the hallway. Beside her is a gaslight, creating elongated shadows across her strained and sombre face. Meanwhile, Gilbert sneaks up the stairs and shifts discreetly down the hallway, somehow knowing he’ll come upon Anne on the floor, feeling lost and defeated.

 **ANNE:**  
_(recognises the silhouette of Gilbert in the semi-darkness; a look of mild surprise clouds her face as she jumps slightly)_  
Oh. Hello. I thought you’d gone home.

 **GILBERT:**  
I couldn’t go home without knowing whether Matthew – _(pauses, but he doesn’t explain further; he stoops down to sit and lean against the wall with her – she does not object, but he remains a reasonable distance from her, lest she think he is taking advantage of her vulnerable state)_ Are you alright?

 **ANNE:**  
_(whispering – she doesn’t want Matthew to hear her)_  
I’m worried about Matthew.

He searches for her eyes; her head is turned away.

 **ANNE:**  
_(she’s weighed down with troubling thoughts)_  
It's happened before, once. And now it’s happening again. _(clasps hands in fervent prayer immediately after saying this)_ Dear God, please spare Matthew. Don't take him away just yet. Dear God, dear God… _(her murmuring becomes obscure, but the intensity of her facial expression remains; this continues on until she stops suddenly, burying her face in her lap.)_ Not tonight. Not on Christmas. No, no, it can’t end like one of the twins –

 **GILBERT:**  
What twins?

 **ANNE:**  
_(she stares at him, dazed)_  
What?

 **GILBERT:**  
You said something about twins.

 **ANNE:**  
Oh? _(pauses; her lip is quivering as flashes of that year’s Christmas surge in like a powerful tide, and he frowns; this fiery and headstrong soul has never seemed smaller.)_ That was years ago.

 **GILBERT:**  
_(softly)_  
It was before you came to Avonlea, wasn’t it? _(then hesitantly; he knows he must tread carefully with the question he’s about to ask her)_ What was it like? Before you came here.

 **ANNE:**  
_(hesitant at first)_  
I – I can only be certain they meant to be good to me.

 **GILBERT:**  
They?

 **ANNE:**  
_(there’s a battle being waged between her inner conflicting emotions. She’s not sure whether this story is worth telling – what does she say to somebody who’s had a mostly happy family life and will probably never relate?)_ Imagine having ten, thirteen children to look after, especially two sets of twins to feed and nurse. _(haltingly)_ They never had time for me. I was older, and I could very well take care of myself. Those babies, I mothered them just as often as the mothers did. They were awfully sickly little things. One…broke out in horrific red rashes after she ate her breakfast –

 **GILBERT:**  
_(nods in immediate understanding, his extensive medical knowledge forged in his mind, though there’s a weakening in his tone that’s cleverly veiled with neutrality)_  
Typhoid fever.

 **ANNE:**  
Yes. _(she’s struggling to go on)_ One time at Christmas – I was ten, I think – I had to take care of both twins at once. One of them was dreadfully ill. Poor thing. Oh God, she was suffering so. _(her breath hitches)_ I was cradling her, singing her little carols to cheer her up, when she suddenly… _(welling up)_ I could see God’s light shining brighter in her eyes. She had beautiful, darling blue eyes. No matter how hard I tried to bring her from her deathly slumber, I think she’d already crossed to the realm of heaven. Her mother was so distraught. I would be, too, if I were a mother who had just lost another child.

BEGIN FLASHBACK...

* * *

**13\. INT. A DIM ROOM – NIGHT – CHRISTMAS, 1893**

A woman, blurred at the edges by the passing of time, marches into the room and comes upon Anne, age 10, holding the dead baby girl in her arms, while a copious stream of tears leak down her hollow-eyed, scrawny face over her tragic end. Anne looks wildly startled upon seeing her and almost drops the baby.

 **WOMAN:**  
_(softly, stricken with grief)_  
You.

 **ANNE:**  
_(amid sobs)_  
I – I’m sorry. I did all I could.

The woman ignores her and gathers the dead baby in her arms. She presses her face close to the baby’s little cold cheek – her cries are ugly but they are raw and real.

 **ANNE:**  
The baby was so sick, ma’am…

The woman wraps the baby in a bundle of blankets, then starts to menacingly move towards the girl whom, as far as she is concerned, was responsible for the death of her child. Anne grows alarmed...

The woman lunges violently towards Anne, who shields herself with her hands in fright; she lets out a shriek of immeasurable pain as the woman tugs one of her braids and throws her down towards the filthy infested ground. The woman, her face red with fury but also tear-streaked with motherly grief, strikes the poor orphan girl once, twice, thrice. With every strike, Anne lets out a hoarse scream, and her scant implorations for mercy fade out along with the memory…

END FLASHBACK. BACK TO SCENE.

* * *

The full force of the memory consumes and overwhelms Anne. Suddenly, she’s all choked-up; Gilbert continues to gaze at her. The realisation of the starved and abusive childhood she’d experienced hits him hard. His hand tentatively reaches for hers; it finds a place curled among her long, delicate white fingers.

 **ANNE:**  
_(looking down; she believes her past is a stain on her present)_  
I never talked about it with anybody, you see. About any of it.

 **GILBERT:**  
_(immense, genuine sympathy grows in his eyes; they are tinged with a warmth greater than she has ever seen, yet also accompanied by sadness)_  
I understand.

 **ANNE:**  
_(shakes her head a little, followed by a small mournful laugh)_  
No, you don’t.

 **GILBERT:**  
_(realising his foolishness)_  
You’re right. I’m sorry.

There’s an affecting, momentary silence that hangs over them in the gloom. The amber glow of the gaslight highlights the last of her tears. At the same time, he slowly withdraws his hand, fearing that his fingers no longer deserve to be intertwined with hers. In the distance – a window must be open – the faint chorus of carolling townspeople echo across the pale winter night.

 **GILBERT:**  
_(consolingly, but firmly)_  
The baby’s death wasn’t your fault, Anne. Even that woman should have known that. There are some things in life that you just can’t control. Even if she called for a doctor…doctors can’t always help their patients cheat death. If they could…my father and my brothers would still be here.

The perpetual ache of having experienced multiple losses so early in his life is evident in the subtle pain swiftly coloring his gentle hazel eyes. She slowly looks up at him, transfixed.

 **ANNE:**  
You had brothers?

 **GILBERT:**  
It happened long ago, long before you were here. The rooms were completely wrought with typhoid. My father couldn’t understand it. How it could have happened. They were such healthy, strapping boys as well. He had to separate me from them just so I wouldn’t catch it as well. When the doctor came downstairs to tell us the news – _(he stops, his voice becoming increasingly strained, before picking up the story once more)_ After one died, the others followed. My father was devastated. He’d lost most of his ‘prodigal sons’, and _(gestures to himself weakly)_ I was the only one left. _(the very first hint of tears moisten the corners of his eyes as he rests his head against the wall, trying to bridle his emotions – he remembers what he told Marilla the day they stood before his father’s grave together: ‘We were a large family, for a while…’)_

BEGIN FLASHBACK...

* * *

**14\. INT. A ROOM IN THE BLYTHE RESIDENCE – NIGHT – 1887**

A wispy, nymph-faced young boy stands in a doorway parallel to another as he quietly observes a doctor peering over one of his bedridden brothers – the last one left living. Before he knows it, there’s a sea of people pouring into the room, faces he barely recognises, all of them exuding distress and despair – he follows their movements with curiosity, and naïvely hopes that this means that his brother has been cured. The boy’s father suddenly bullets down the hallway and starts cutting through the crowd with frenzied eyes.

 **GILBERT:**  
Dad?

His father doesn’t hear him.

 **JOHN:**  
_(urgently)_  
Teddy! Son – out of my way!

The boy catches a glimpse of his eldest brother, resting peacefully in his bed, but his skin is ghostly pale and his chest motionless – it no longer heaves with life. A mix of shock and terror begin seeping into his once-hopeful eyes as he subconsciously realises what has happened – suddenly, every voice is just noise to him.

 **GILBERT:**  
Dad? Dad!

He tries to push through the crowd as his father had done, but a man steps in front of him, his angular face set in sorrow.

 **MAN:**  
Come on, son.

The boy’s eyes begin to well up.

 **MAN:**  
_(sadly)_ It’s over. I’m sorry.

The man picks the young boy up, who struggles against his heavy arms as the man walks further away from the room, but to no avail.

 **GILBERT:**  
_(crying out fiercely)_  
No! Teddy! Teddy, come back!

The sound of murmured prayers breaks out and is prolonged through the night…

* * *

**15\. EXT. BLYTHE FARM – EVENING – A FEW DAYS AFTER**

JOHN BLYTHE, who had less grey hairs and was considerably more robust at the time, peers out the window. He sees his son – the only son he has left – sitting on a lone tree-trunk out on the field. The boy’s life is short thus far, but is already leaden with the spectres of his departed brothers. The skies are dismally gray and thick with clouds as they cast a melancholy ambience upon the farm.

 **JOHN:**  
_(rapping the window before opening it)_  
Son? It’s getting cold.

His son doesn’t respond. Gilbert clings to a grey wool cap, turning it over in his hands. His eldest brother promised him that he’ll be able to wear it one day. He remembered him saying once that the first time he wore it, something special happened to him that changed his life forever. He met a girl in the woods. The rest of the story is past recollection, but they were engaged prior to his untimely passing. Gilbert wonders for a moment if the cap is magic, but then quickly dismisses the notion – there’s no such thing as magic in this world.

A pretty and delicate leaf, which sticks out immediately due to its bright red hue, tumbles about in the wind and flies into the side of his head momentarily before moving on. He gazes after it in wonder…

END FLASHBACK. BACK TO SCENE.

* * *

**ANNE:**  
_(her voice growing softer)_  
What were your brothers like?

 **GILBERT:**  
_(surprised she asked; answers as frankly as possible)_  
I don’t really remember. I was six, maybe seven when it happened. My father always spoke so fondly of them. I wouldn’t know what my mother thought of them –

 **ANNE:**  
_(interjecting)_  
Your mother? Where is she?

 **GILBERT:**  
In Alberta.

 **ANNE:**  
_(repeats, puzzled)_  
In Alberta?

 **GILBERT:**  
She’s been buried there for the past seventeen years.

 **ANNE:**  
_(very sincerely)_  
I’m sorry. _(pauses)_ Why haven’t you told me any of this before?

 **GILBERT:**  
_(glances down at his feet, then back up to meet her eyes once more)_  
The same reason you haven’t. The memories are just too painful. For a long time afterwards, it was just me and my father.

Fresh tears develop in Anne’s earnestly wistful eyes as she realises that Gilbert has experienced far more tragedy in his life then she’d ever realised. She’ll never look at or regard him in the same way – but this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Now, at least, she understands him in a dreadfully ironic way. Both orphans whose characters and lives, though largely divergent, have been shaped by their tragedies as well as their triumphs. In turn, all of her darkest memories that might have tainted or blemished her have been revealed to a boy whom she once thought she’d never give the time of day. What she doesn’t realise is that he still loves her, cracks and all, if not more than he ever did before.

 **ANNE:**  
_(looking up and down the length of his pained face)_  
You knew your father. I never knew either of my parents. But often I like to think they were kind and compassionate people. That they loved me just as much as Matthew and Marilla do now. Do you ever wonder what your mother was like?

 **GILBERT:**  
Well, I never really needed to. My father talked about my mother all the time, even while he was housebound. He loved a lot of things about her, but above everything else he loved the way she smiled. He would say that I smiled just like her.

His hand slowly reaches out to hers again, but this time she reciprocates. They lock eyes and smile – his carries the ghost of the mother he never knew – before sitting in silence for what seems like forever.

* * *

**16\. INT. LIVING ROOM**

A knock on the front door. Mary starts, then sighs in relief.

* * *

**17\. INT. HALLWAY**

A low hum can suddenly be heard from downstairs. Marilla, Mary, and Bash’s voices all mingle with another man’s.

 **ANNE:**  
_(realising; turns to Gilbert)_  
The doctor must be here.

 **GILBERT:**  
Yeah.

 **ANNE:**  
Come on.

* * *

**18\. INT. VESTIBULE**

Marilla, the Lacroixs and the DOCTOR all turn around and are surprised to see Anne and Gilbert hurrying down the staircase. Anne suddenly stops.

 **ANNE:**  
_(timidly)_  
Good evening, sir.

 **DOCTOR:**  
_(stiffly, but not unkindly)_  
Evening, Miss. Is Mr Cuthbert upstairs?

 **ANNE:**  
Yes, but he’s been asleep for a while now. Marilla?

 **MARILLA:**  
_(looking askance at her before turning to the Doctor)_  
Shall we, Doctor? I’m truly sorry for interrupting your Christmas –

Gilbert catches the eye of Bash and Mary in particular; their expressions are pithy and knowing. He hands them a ‘don’t-grin-like-that-nothing-went-on’ look, and they respond mutely with ‘we’ll confront you about it later’.

 **GILBERT:**  
_(sensing an opportunity)_  
We’d best be on our way. It’s getting late.

He’s not wrong – it’s almost ten thirty in the evening. He shrugs on his coat, which is oddly bulging in one of the pockets, and the Lacroixs follow him out the door.

* * *

**19\. EXT. GREEN GABLES**

They’re at the front gate when, out of the blue, Anne comes bounding down and catches up with them. She’s carrying something.

 **ANNE:**  
_(breathlessly)_  
Wait! Gilbert!

Gilbert stops, glancing at her questioningly. Bash and Mary exchange suggestive smiles and leave them be, walking on ahead. The young ones are left standing alone on either side of the gate, separating them both. Snow falls upon them like glittering white rain. Anne takes out a rectangular package wrapped in brown tissue paper and rests it in Gilbert’s hands.

 **ANNE:**  
_(dewy-eyed)_  
Merry Christmas.

BEGIN FLASHBACK...

* * *


	2. Part 2

* * *

**20\. EXT. BLYTHE FARM – NIGHT – CHRISTMAS, 1886**

TEDDY BLYTHE, the eldest of the prodigal sons and a chip off the old block, walks down the front after catching something – someone – outside his house and deciding to steal away from his family temporarily. He reaches the front gate where his placid, rosy-cheeked fiancée, EMILY, is waiting. She smiles at him sweetly, her honey-brown eyes crinkling.

 **TEDDY:**  
_(visibly surprised)_  
Emily.

 **EMILY:**  
_(her voice soft and serene)_  
I have something for you, love. Here.

She removes a silver package with a thick velvet crimson bow and gives it to him.

 **TEDDY:**  
_(raising an eyebrow, then rapturously)_  
Why, thank you, future Mrs. Blythe.

* * *

**21\. EXT. GREEN GABLES – PRESENT**

Gilbert, unknowingly, replicates his brother’s reaction – without the words verbatim, of course, just a simple –

 **GILBERT:**  
Thank you. _(pauses before remembering and rummaging through his coat pocket)_ I have something for you too.

Anne receives his gift with unmitigated joy.

* * *

**22\. EXT. BLYTHE FARM - 1886**

**TEDDY:**  
_(teasingly)_  
Now, young miss, you thought I’d let you go without a gift of your own?

 **EMILY:**  
_(blushing, but giggling)_  
Oh, Teddy. Stop it.

 **TEDDY:**  
_(raising an index finger, indicating for her to stay put)_  
Wait here.

He runs into the house, as she watches him with anticipation. He later re-emerges with a large rectangular box under his arm, inducing an astonished gasp from her.

 **EMILY:**  
_(almost scolding, but she’s exhilarated nonetheless)_  
Oh, Teddy, you didn’t!

 **TEDDY:**  
I sure hope it fits.

Emily takes one peek of the contents within the box.

 **EMILY:**  
_(confused)_  
Why, there’s only wrappings in here.

 **TEDDY:**  
Ah! Look closer.

Emily rummages through the wrappings, seemingly containing nothing, until she happens upon a glint of painted gold. Her eyes widen and become doe-like.

* * *

**23\. EXT. GREEN GABLES – PRESENT**

**GILBERT:**  
I think you’d better open yours now.

 **ANNE:**  
_(confused, raising an eyebrow)_  
Why?

 **GILBERT:**  
_(grinning)_  
I want to see what it looks like on you.

* * *

**24\. EXT. BLYTHE FARM – 1886**

Emily pulls out a gold necklace with a handsome pink enamel heart, and lets out a transient, high-pitched squeal.

 **EMILY:**  
Oh, Teddy!

 **TEDDY:**  
_(smiling coyly)_  
I knew you’d like it.

 **EMILY:**  
_(returning the smile, and moving in, as if gravity is gradually pulling her face closer to his)_  
No, no, Teddy. I love it.

Teddy puts the necklace on around his beloved fiancée’s glowing neck. Their faces are now within inches of each other, with smiles that are tender and lustful at once.

* * *

**25\. EXT. GREEN GABLES – PRESENT**

Anne opens the package, and a necklace with a pink enamel heart spills into her hands. She’s instantly enchanted by the gift, but struggles to undo the clasp; she’s never owned a necklace before.

 **GILBERT:**  
Here. Let me help.

He undoes the clasp for her and hovers his hands around her neck to put it on. For the whole time she simply stares at him, bewildered and feeling a little cornered but, oddly enough, also beguiled by the way his eyes grow soft and imbued with fondness. When he finishes, they both regard the necklace in different but similar manners. She silently admires how prettily it shines in the moonlight. He thought the necklace looked beautiful by itself, but is amazed by how much more beautiful it looks against her titillating pale skin. Finally, Anne does something that she never believed she would do in a million years, and does so on the spur of the moment…

* * *

**26\. EXT. BLYTHE FARM – 1886**

Emily, looking as radiant and ravishing as when she was in the woods the day they met, leans over the gate, as does Teddy – they are swaddled in each other’s arms.

* * *

**27\. EXT. GREEN GABLES – PRESENT**

Anne throws her arms around him in a simple but meaningful embrace. They sustain it for a few minutes, and he takes in the rich scent of flowery fragrances. He’s found home and heaven all at once. Anne would rather die than admit to anyone, let alone Gilbert himself, that she feels the exact same way.

* * *

**28\. EXT. BLYTHE FARM – 1886**

Not long after hugging, their lips suddenly meet, and the rest of the world is blurred. The couple part after a long while, bursting with ecstasy.

 **TEDDY:**  
You’ll have another one next Christmas, when we’re husband and wife. I promise you that.

Their tightly gripped hands proceed to gently slide apart as Emily effortlessly glides backwards like a gaily, ambrosial deity before turning around – she must return to her own family. He watches her disappear amongst the bare trees coated with thin bluish frost.

END FLASHBACK.

* * *

**29\. EXT. GREEN GABLES – PRESENT**

They pull back slightly, their arms still interlinked, but their frost-nipped faces are beyond acceptable proximity. She can feel his warm, toasty breath on her lips. His eyes flutter once, twice. Then Anne abruptly blanches – she’s realised what she’s doing, or about to do.

 **ANNE:**  
_(hastily)_  
I have to go. Thank you so very much for the gift.

She barely gets a glimpse of his bewildered and crestfallen expression before turning and clamoring up the hill without another word. Smiling in resignation, Gilbert proceeds to walk off into the thick curtain of the night. He looks back over his shoulder and is reminded of a graceful white faerie.

* * *

**30\. INT. GILBERT’S BEDROOM – BLYTHE RESIDENCE**

Gilbert sits at his desk, with Anne’s present placed in the centre. The wrapping is pretty – a cornflower blue bow edged with darker lace, threaded with a neatly-plucked sprig of holly and winter heath. Carefully setting them aside, he tears open the paper. Out slides a scarlet leather-bound book, with a thick gold border, and he opens it, marvelling at the smooth cream pages until he notices something written at the front. There, written in delicate, spidery handwriting full of Anne’s vivid, imaginative character, are the words: ‘For putting everything that you keep in that great big head of yours into these pages. You can’t be a doctor without keeping an organised record. Anne.’ Gilbert smiles and faintly chuckles – he can hear her silvery voice ringing clearly in his ears, as if she were standing beside him at that precise moment.

* * *

**31\. INT. MATTHEW’S BEDROOM – GREEN GABLES**

Anne sits quietly by Matthew’s bedside, still wearing the necklace. All of the pain is gone from his face, and he seems to be at peace. She leans forward to plant a tender kiss upon his forehead.

 **ANNE:**  
_(whispering)_  
Merry Christmas, Matthew.

She blows out the solitary candle on his bedside table and tiptoes out the room, closing the door softly behind her. As she drifts down the hallway like a flame-haired ghost, she holds the heart-shaped pendant of the necklace between two fingers and privately wonders to herself what kind of soul it might have and what rich, untold history it holds…

BEGIN FLASHBACK...

* * *

**32\. EXT. A STREET IN CHARLOTTETOWN – 1887 – DAY**

John walks down the perimeter of the busy city street, accompanied by his young son, as John wishes to show him the sights beyond the confinements of rural Avonlea. His son is evidently amazed by the tall looming buildings and the people dressed in fashionable finery. They’re almost at the local pawnshop when both stop in their tracks and recognise the sweet face of Emily, in a handsome plum coat and carrying a big bag full of articles. She hasn’t been quite the same since Teddy’s death – quieter, and sadder. However, her face now carries a sense of fixed purpose – she’s at Charlottetown for a reason. She wears the necklace that Teddy gave her last Christmas, but she hasn’t noticed that there is a slight fault in its clasp.

 **JOHN:**  
_(calling out)_  
Emily!

At hearing her name, Emily turns around.

 **EMILY:**  
_(appearing wistful, and a little embarrassed)_  
Mr. Blythe.

 **JOHN:**  
How does your family fare, dear girl?

 **EMILY:**  
_(looking away)_  
They’ve been quite well, thank you.

 **JOHN:**  
_(softly, sensing her carefully concealed pain)_  
And you?

 **EMILY:**  
_(hesitating; her voice quavers)_  
I’ve been better.

John, filled with sympathy, holds her hands with the gentle, reassuring touch of a father.

 **EMILY:**  
_(the words suddenly spilling out of her mouth)_  
I’m sorry, sir. Forgive me. I have to move away. From Avonlea. From this island.

 **JOHN:**  
_(incredulously)_  
Where on earth are you going to go?

 **EMILY:**  
_(gazing up, with a weak but hopeful smile)_  
To New York City. It’s the perfect place to start anew.

 **JOHN:**  
_(remembering a time when life was sweeter and richer with a fuller family)_  
New York. My wife and I used to dream of heading there together.

Emily kneels down to meet Gilbert’s line of sight, and the distinct sheen of her pink enamel heart necklace glows like a rose-coloured star before him. She is like the older sister – or the mother – he never had.

 **EMILY:**  
You’ll be good for me, won’t you, Gil?

 **GILBERT:**  
_(confused)_  
Where’s New York? Is it far?

 **EMILY:**  
_(tears fill her eyes; her voice is low and palpitating)_  
Yes, it’s very far. One day, you’ll be old enough to travel, and then maybe you can visit me there. The world is bigger than you know. _(unable to contain herself, she hugs the little boy tightly, ruffling his dark curls with a gloved hand)_ Oh, Gil, I know I’ll miss you terribly. You have no idea of the scope of possibilities that await you. And even though I won’t be here to see you grow into the wonderful young man I know you’ll become, I’ll always be your girl. But I’m afraid you’ll find another girl whom you’ll love even more. Someone more special.

 **GILBERT:**  
But she won’t be as special as you.

 **EMILY:**  
_(as if she bears a third eye)_  
Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that. You’ll see. Goodbye, my dear child.

 **GILBERT:**  
_(mournfully)_  
I won’t ever forget you.

Emily lets out a choked, bittersweet laugh, for she knows quite well that in a matter of years, the boy will remember nothing of his older brother’s fiancée. She gets up, smiles at John briefly, before turning and walking away from the Blythe family forever.

* * *

**33\. INT. CHARLOTTETOWN PAWN SHOP**

The shopkeeper’s bell jangles loudly, announcing the arrival of a new potential customer. Emily surveys the surroundings with a hint of wariness – she wants the visit to be over and done with. The SHOPKEEPER notices her dithering at the doorway and waves her in impatiently.

 **SHOPKEEPER:**  
Young lady, are you here for business or not?

 **EMILY:**  
_(her head is low, and she places her bag onto the counter)_  
I’m here to sell some family items.

 **SHOPKEEPER:**  
_(picking up each item with some skepticism)_  
These aren’t stolen goods, are they?

 **EMILY:**  
_(politely, though her displeasure is patent)_  
Of course not. They were all willingly handed to me by my parents.

 **SHOPKEEPER:**  
_(notices her necklace, and points at it with a crooked finger)_  
That necklace would be worth quite a large sum.

 **EMILY:**  
_(a little more curtly, while casting a protective hand over it)_  
I don’t intend on selling it.

 **SHOPKEEPER:**  
Do you intend to move away?

 **EMILY:**  
_(biting her lip tensely)_  
That’s none of your business. Now, how much will my mother’s earrings be worth?

 **SHOPKEEPER:**  
_(with a hint of greed-fuelled desperation)_  
No one will know it’s an ersatz -

 **EMILY:**  
_(taking back each and every item and shoving them into her bag, her heart pounding)_  
Thank you, sir, but I think I’ll be on my way. Good day.

She lifts her bag off the counter and leaves the shop in a daze, while the shopkeeper glances despairingly after her…

* * *

**34\. EXT. A STREET IN CHARLOTTETOWN**

As Emily boards her buggy in a hurry, she doesn’t notice the defected necklace break free and fall from her neck. It is lying there, half-covered in a bed of snow as the buggy takes off and rides away into the distance. It remains there untouched for some time…

* * *

**35\. INT. CHARLOTTETOWN PAWNSHOP – SOME TIME LATER – DAY**

Emily comes back, desperately looking for her missing necklace.

 **EMILY:**  
_(panting, on the brink of tears)_  
Pardon me, sir, but have you seen an enamel necklace?

 **SHOPKEEPER:**  
_(surprised)_  
No, miss.

 **EMILY’S FRIEND (O.S.):**  
Emily, the train’s going to leave soon!

Her heart sinking in disappointment, Emily takes her leave.

* * *

**35\. EXT. A STREET IN CHARLOTTETOWN – THAT SAME DAY**

A young girl on the street stumbles upon the necklace. By then its true owner is well and truly gone. While she’s sure her mother isn’t looking, the girl nicks it and keeps it secreted underneath her coat.

 **MOTHER:**  
We won’t be too long, Abby.

By pure coincidence, they head into the pawnshop as we cut to –

* * *

**35\. INT. CHARLOTTETOWN PAWNSHOP**

Both ‘ABBY’ and her mother wait at the counter, while the same shopkeeper from before is busily inspecting a small ornate chest.

 **SHOPKEEPER:**  
Hmm…this, ma’am, would be worth at least five dollars.

 **ABBY’S MOTHER:**  
_(her eyes lighting up)_  
Why, that’s wonderful.

 **SHOPKEEPER:**  
And I can take your word for it that this item is indeed genuine?

 **ABBY’S MOTHER:**  
_(eagerly)_  
My grandmother bought it in France, sir.

 **SHOPKEEPER:**  
I see. Might you – _(he is cut off by an oddly familiar sight. The shopkeeper glances down curiously to see a faint glint of pink enamel blink at him from underneath Abby’s coat.)_

 **SHOPKEEPER:**  
What’s that you’ve got, young lady?

 **ABBY:**  
_(feigning innocence)_  
What do you mean, mister?

 **ABBY’S MOTHER:**  
_(following the SHOPKEEPER’s scrutinised gaze, she gasps in horror)_  
Abby! Did you steal something?

 **ABBY:**  
_(bursting into sobs; she’s been caught out)_  
But Mummy, it’s so pretty!

 **SHOPKEEPER:**  
Begging your pardon, ma’am, but I’ve been looking for that necklace for days now. A young lady sold it to me, you see.

 **ABBY’S MOTHER:**  
_(venomously)_  
Give the necklace back to the man, Abby.

 **ABBY:**  
But Mummy –!

Her mother ignores her wailing and snatches the necklace off her, offering it to the shopkeeper apologetically.

 **ABBY’S MOTHER:**  
I’m sorry, sir. My girl is very dishonest. It’s a grievous fault of hers.

Eventually, the woman’s business is done, and she drags her screaming and violently flailing daughter out of the pawnshop. The shopkeeper finds a place for the singularly exquisite enamel necklace at the front window display, and, miraculously, it stays there for many years…

* * *

**36\. EXT. CHARLOTTETOWN PAWNSHOP – 1898 – DAY**

The necklace is still behind the front window, and though it’s lost some of the new golden radiance that it once bore, it maintains its simplistic but classically elegant beauty. Somebody is standing directly in front of the display, gazing at the necklace while intrigued…

* * *

**37\. INT. CHARLOTTETOWN PAWNSHOP**

For the first time in eleven years, the gold enamel necklace is sitting on the shopkeeper’s counter. He is now a hoary man who has not lost a morsel of his shrewd business skills with the passing of time. He glances towards the necklace, then to the person standing before him, then back at the necklace again. He can’t quite believe it.

 **SHOPKEEPER:**  
_(with thinly veiled contempt)_  
Now, sir, is this necklace a gift for a young miss?

 **GILBERT:**  
_(coolly)_  
That’s none of your business.

In that moment, the shopkeeper realises that this necklace’s days of lingering in his shop have come to an end.

* * *


End file.
